University 

of  California 

Berkeley 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


Jacinta 


By  the  same  author 

BIGGS' S  BAR,  AND  OTHER  KLONDYKE  BALLADS 
Price,  75  cents 


J  A  C  1  NT  A 


Hn 

And  Other  Verses 


BY 

HOWARD   V.  SUTHERLAND 


SECOND    EDITION 


DREXEL  BIDDLE,  PUBLISHER 

PHILADELPHIA  LONDON 

BAN  FRANCISCO  TORONTO 

1901 


COPYRIGHT,  1900 
HOWARD  V.  SUTHERLAND 


PRINTED  BY   DREXEL   BIDDLK 
PHILADELPHIA,  U.  8.  A. 


To 
FRANK     DEARDORF 


Contents 

PAGE 

Jacinta •     •     3 

The  Lost  Light 42 

Our  Lady  of  Great  Consolation  .     .     ,     .  43 

San  Francisco •     •     •  44 

Lyric 45 

Close  the  Gates 46 

Art 47 

Science 4$ 

The  Evening  Stars 49 

This  Day's  Message 5° 

Compensation 51 

Death 52 

The  One  Face 53 

The  Players' Question   ....     *'.    •     •  54 

The  Midnight  Visitation 55 

vii 


Contents 


The  Poet's  Creed     ........  56 

Lyric •     •     •  57 

Hope  at  the  Grave  of  Love 58 

With  a  Volume  of  Elizabethan  Lyrics    .  59 

With  a  Tanagra  Statuette 60 

Lyric IT*.  61 

The  Higher  Praise .  63 

The  Writing  on  the  Wall      .....  64 

To  One  in  Doubt 65 

Lyric •     •     •     •     •     •     •  6"6 

Robert  Browning     ....'...«  67 

To  One  Who  Wears  Opals    .....  68 

The  Higher  Marriage  .     .     .....  69 

A  Prayer  for  a  Man's  Passing    ....  70 


Vlll 


JACINTA : 
A   CALIFORNIAN   IDYLL 


JACINTA 

I  SING  of  home,  of  western  shore, 
Which  hears  each  morn  and  night  the  sea 
With  mighty  crash  and  booming  roar 

Give  praise  to  God  eternally ; 
Upon  whose  sands  are  sometimes  hurled 
The  wreckage  of  one  half  the  world. 

I  sing  of  home  because  I  know 
My  land  of  purple,  green  and  gold  ; 

Because  I  love  it,  and  although 
I  live  in  exile  still  I  hold 

Of  all  earth's  queenly  lands  the  best 

Is  still  the  sea-lapped,  sun-lit  West. 
fv  3 


Jacinta 

I  sing  thereof  because  my  soul 

Is  sick  with  longing  and  I  fain 
Would  see  the  shining  aureole 

That  crowns  the  west,  when  down  the  main 
The  sun  goes  royally ;  the  light 
Around  him  and  behind  —  the  night. 

How  well  I  know  that  sea  of  mine 
When  angry  Tritons  churn  its  deeps ; 

When  maddened  waves  upheave  their  brine 
Against  the  land's  rock-armored  steeps ; 

And  sullenly  retreat  again  — 

Their  frenzied  onslaught  all  in  vain. 

Towards  the  blind  and  barren  beach 

Whose  breast  is  strewn  with  shell  and  weed, 

The  waves'  white  hands  forever  reach 
Until  the  waves  themselves  recede 

And  arch  their  splendid  backs  in  wrath 

And  burst  in  floods  of  foam  and  froth. 
4 


Jacinta 

How  well  I  know  the  wheeling  gulls ; 

The  hollow  howling  of  the  wind  ; 
The  barking  seals ;  the  fitful  lulls ; 

The  surf;  the  dreary  dunes  behind; 
The  frowning  clouds,  close-wedged,  enorme, 
The  grim  spectators  of  the  storm. 

What  bodes  the  ocean's  empty  rage? 

Why  howl  these  foolish  winds  so  loud? 
The  Westland  has  its  heritage  — 

Immunity  from  storm  and  cloud. 
There  cannot  be  eternal  war 
Between  the  sea  and  this  fair  shore. 

While  yet  the  sea-lashed  Tritons  fight 
The  sun  appears  and  bids  them  cease ; 

The  skies  are  tinged  with  golden  light, 
The  winds  and  waters  sign  a  peace. 

And  ere  the  sands  have  drunk  their  fill 

A  silence  falls  o'er  sea  and  hill. 

5 


Jacinta 


How  well  I  know  my  western  land 
That  clothes  itself  each  month  anew 

With  blooms  more  golden  than  the  sand, 
As  white  as  snow,  than  sky  more  blue  — 

Dear  flowers  that  are  content  to  be 

Like  nuns  in  their  humility  ! 

The  poppy,  iris,  marguerite, 

The  larkspur  and  the  violet ; 
The  honeysuckle,  fresh  and  sweet, 

The  bluebell  and  the  mignonette  ; 
The  pansy  (loved  of  Proserpine), 
Forget-me-not  and  eglantine. 

And  others  which  I  cannot  name 
Yet  which  are  fair  as  flowers  are ; 

Each  morn,  behold,  they  weep  with  shame 
At  having  wooed  some  distant  star 

Which  saw  them  not,  but  loved  in  turn 

The  moon,  for  which  all  stars  must  yearn. 
6 


Jacinta 

Dear  blooms,  the  world  were  drear  indeed 
Were  you  not  here  to  make  it  gay ; 

You  make  us  think  who  sowed  the  seed, 
Who  closes  you  at  end  of  day. 

You  may  be  humble,  yet  you  teach 

Us  more,  perhaps,  than  they  who  preach. 

How  fair  those  morns  when  o'er  the  deep 
Sets  sail  to  wearied  pagan  lands 

The  poppy-freighted  ship  of  sleep 

To  give  men  rest  and  ease  their  bands. 

Soft  music  seems  to  fill  the  air 

As  though  the  angels  choired  there. 

How  good  each  summer  afternoon 

To  lie  amid  the  sedges  tall 
And  render  thanks  for  God's  best  boon  — 

To  be  alive  and  feel  it  all ; 
To  be  a  part  of  land,  of  sea, 
The  Past  and  of  Eternity ; 
7 


Jacinta 

To  hear  the  music  of  the  shell, 
To  feel  the  joyous  wind's  caress, 

To  see  the  ocean's  bosom  swell 

And  know  Who  makes  it  restless  —  yes, 

To  be  a  very  part  of  Him 

Who  sends  the  mighty  seraphim 

To  beat  the  waters  back  and  forth, 
And  drag  the  ocean's  silvered  floors ; 

To  tear  the  icefloes  from  the  North, 
To  light  the  lamps  at  heaven's  doors ; 

To  fling  the  snow  on  mountain  crest 

And  drive  the  sun  from  east  to  west. 

When  evening  falls,  with  crimson  blush 
The  sky  beholds  the  earth  prepare 

To  woo  the  night.     A  solemn  hush 
Pervades  the  faintly-perfumed  air, 

Unless,  perchance,  by  lonely  bird 

The  dreaming  hills  and  woods  are  stirred. 
8 


Jacinta 

But  soon  the  singer  seeks  its  nest, 

Night's  sentries  guard  the  purpled  dome ; 

The  very  sea  inclines  to  rest 

And  gives  the  ocean  birds  a  home. 

The  hopeless  moon,  like  pale-faced  nun, 

Still  dreams  about  the  kingly  sun. 

O'er  sands  and  sea,  o'er  hill  and  vale, 
A  sense  of  peacefulness  descends ; 

No  more  the  insects  drone  the  tale 
Of  how  the  day's  short  pleasure  ends ; 

No  more  the  straggling  bees  make  known 

Their  love  in  language  all  their  own. 

But  very  soon  the  winds  arise 

And  murmur  softly  to  the  trees 
The  songs  they  hear  in  Paradise  — 

The  holy  angels'  symphonies. 
And  while  they  sing  with  voices  deep 
The  West,  my  West,  is  lulled  to  sleep. 


*  *  #  *  * 

#  *  * 


Jacinta 

THE   IDYLL 

A  HILLY  sea-coast,  cleft  in  two, 
Some  rocks,  with  barking  seals  at  play 
A  ruined  fort  which  dares  the  blue 

And  gray  Pacific  day  by  day. 
Deceptive  slopes  where  bugles  blow ; 
A  bay  secure  from  storm  or  foe. 

A  youthful  city,  throned  on  hills, 
A  city  loved  of  wind  and  sun  — 

A  chalice  which  the  evening  fills 

With  peacefulness  when  day  is  done ; 

O'er  which  the  golden  rays  decline 

In  steady  streams  of  amber  wine. 

To  some  a  mother,  on  whose  breast 
Most  weary  men  from  older  lands 

Can  lay  their  tired  heads  and  rest 

Till  strength  returns  to  heart  and  hands ; 

Till  will  returns  to  up  and  move 

The  slow  world  upward,  groove  by  groove. 
10 


Jacinta 

To  some  a  youth,  alert  and  proud, 
Whose  Titan  father  sought  his  mate 

Among  our  hills,  half- veiled  in  cloud ; 
A  youth  unfearing,  sure  of  Fate, 

Determined,  friend  of  Right  and  Truth 

A  type  of  noblest  western  youth. 

To  some  who  look  with  lovers'  gaze 
And  point  her  beauty  out  at  night, 

She  seems  a  mistress  all  ablaze 

With  countless  jewels,  red  and  white 

Outstretched  above  the  sea  she  lies, 

Unuttered  dreamings  in  her  eyes. 

The  four  great  winds  of  heaven  strive 

To  do  her  service  loyally ; 
When  stars  wax  amorous  they  drive 

The  spectral  mist  from  off  the  sea 
And  hide  her  underneath  its  wings 
Until  the  day's  first  herald  sings. 


Jacinta 

The  waters  play  about  her  feet, 
The  breezes  sport  above  her  head ; 

In  winter's  cool,  in  summer's  heat 
Amid  the  hills  she  hath  her  bed ; 

And  be  her  pillow  green  or  brown 

'Mid  flowers  she  can  lay  her  down. 

In  future  years,  it  hath  been  writ, 

This  western  State  shall  rise  and  draw 

All  earnest-purposed  men  to  it, 
All  laden  ships  towards  its  shore ; 

And  proudly  on  the  wooing  air 

Shall  float  the  Banner  of  the  Bear. 

And  San  Francisco  shall  be  made 
The  arbitress  'twixt  West  and  East, 

Adjudging  fairly,  unafraid ; 
Her  tribunals  toward  the  least 

And  to  the  greatest  e'er  shall  be 

A  very  spring  of  Equity. 
12 


Jacinta 

Religion,  Industries  and  Arts 

Shall  here  abide  in  those  dim  years 

When  older  lands,  with  older  marts, 
Are  blotted  out  beneath  the  tears 

Of  humble  workers ;  worn  away 

By  breath  of  Time's  sad  serf — Decay. 
*  *  * 

0  western  land,  O  western  town, 
O  western  women,  western  men, 

When  comes  the  day  that  I  go  down 
To  sunless  lands  and  sleep,  ah,  then, 

1  beg  ye  grant  to  me  the  love 
So  hard  a-winning  here  above. 

So  hard  a-winning,  though  I  sought 
By  humble  means  to  make  it  mine ; 

Not  only  has  the  soldier  fought, 
But  even  he  who  hears  divine 

Sad  songs  within  his  sunless  heart 

And  strives  their  message  to  impart 
13 


Jacinta 

To  men  and  women  wed  to  toil ; 

To  those  who  have  no  time  to  hear 
The  voice  that  overswells  the  broil 

Yet  reaches  only  dreamer's  ear, 
And  whispers  him  of  peace  and  rest 
And  recompense  for  earth's  oppressed. 

And  very  oft  the  man  who  sings 
Is  wounded ;  but  he  dares  not  tell 

About  his  wounds,  his  sufferings  — 
He  smiles,  and  all  seems  passing  well. 

The  song  is  heard ;  but  who  shall  heed 

The  singer  or  the  singer's  need  ? 

And  though  I  heard  a  spirit  sing 

About  these  sundown  seas  and  lands, 

I  could  not  tell  ye  everything  — 
I  do  my  best.  God  understands. 

And  ye  ?    Ye  will  remember,  then, 

My  western  women,  western  men? 


Jacinta 

Upon  a  hill  that  faced  the  sea 
A  cottage  stood,  a  humble  place, 

Yet  built  of  fragrant  redwood  tree 
And  fashioned  with  a  certain  grace 

That  spoke  of  taste  and  made  one  fain 

To  pause  and  look  at  it  again. 

Its  walls  were  hid  beneath  a  veil, 

Where  birds  made  nests,  of  lasting  green ; 
And  roses  red  and  roses  pale 

And  one  big  bunch  of  jessamine 
Entwined  the  latticed  porch  and  made 
A  scent  as  of  a  forest  glade. 

A  garden  filled  with  shady  trees 
And  old-time  flowers  grew,  around ; 

They  nodded  idly  in  the  breeze 
Or  cast  their  petals  on  the  ground ; 

While  watchful  hedges  kept  at  bay 

The  dune's  encroachment  day  by  day. 


Jacinta 

'T  was  early  morn.     The  sun  as  yet 

Just  stained  the  peaks  with  golden  dye ; 

From  out  its  leafy  minaret 
A  songster  carolled  at  the  sky 

And  sought  from  out  its  nest  to  stir 

Each  sleepy  feathered  worshipper. 

The  sea  was  like  a  silver  shield, 

Which  scarcely  seemed  to  rise  or  fall ; 

But  when  the  sunbeams  lit  each  field 
The  shield  was  sapphire-hued,  and  all 

The  waves  awoke  and  clapped  their  hands 

And  raced  towards  their  love  —  the  sands. 

And  suddenly  one  sound  was  heard, 
The  mingled  music  of  the  deep, 

The  joyful  wind,  the  careless  bird  — 
All  nature,  fresh-aroused  from  sleep. 

One  endless  song,  one  mighty  hymn ; 

God's  playthings  giving  thanks  to  Him. 
16 


Jacinta 

The  door  was  opened  and  there  came 
From  out  the  house  with  stately  tread 

And  peaceful  mien  an  aged  dame ; 
The  silvered  hair  upon  whose  head 

Was  like  a  crown  Time  gives  the  old  — 

More  honored  than  a  crown  of  gold. 

Your  golden  crowns  are  only  worn 
In  empty  pomp  by  fated  kings ; 

But  silvered  hair,  like  crown  of  thorn, 
Suggestive  is  of  higher  things. 

It  tells  of  sorrow  and  of  care 

Yet  hints  of  triumph  o'er  despair. 

The  dame's  arrival  seemed  a  sign 
For  chicks  of  every  size  and  kind 

In  piping  chorus  to  combine 
And  follow  noisily  behind 

Their  chatelaine,  who  also  fed 

The  birds  that  twittered  overhead. 


Jacinta 

And  then  among  the  younger  flowers 
She  moved  and  gathered,  one  by  one, 

The  sweet  companions  of  the  hours 
Whose  lives,  alas,  so  soon  are  done ; 

And  thought,  perhaps,  how  even  she 

Must  brave  some  day  the  Greater  Sea. 

But  ere  her  posy  was  complete 
The  door  was  opened  once  again 

By  one  who  ran  with  tripping  feet 
That  touched  the  path  like  summer  rain 

To  where  the  smiling  mother  stood  — 

Still  conscious  of  her  motherhood. 

Jacinta  this  ;  a  simple  girl 

Of  seventeen,  who  had  not  spent 

Her  childhood  in  the  fevered  whirl 
Of  city  life,  where  backs  are  bent 

And  souls  are  dwarfed  beneath  the  load 

We  all  must  pack  along  the  road. 
18 


Jacinta 

A  child  at  heart,  who  had  not  known 
The  city's  base  temptations ;  for 

With  mother  she  had  lived  alone 
Above  the  sea,  above  the  shore  — 

Above  the  rocks,  above  the  wrecks, 

Beyond  the  touch  of  derelicts. 

A  flower  born  'neath  redwood  trees 
Transplanted  to  the  peaceful  heights ; 

A  playmate  of  the  rain  and  breeze, 
Of  shadows  and  of  changing  lights. 

As  much  a  part  of  nature  as 

The  poppies  and  azaleas. 

A  simple  girl  whose  faith  was  still 
As  whole  as  piping  bird's  may  be ; 

Who  saw  a  glory  on  the  hill 

And  heaven's  mirage  on  the  sea  j 

Whose  trust  in  all  her  kind  was  sure 

Because  herself  was  good  and  pure. 
'9 


Jacinta 

A  comely  maid  she  was.     Her  hair 
Was  golden  as  the  autumn  grain ; 

Her  eyes  were  blue ;  her  skin  was  fair 
Despite  the  touch  of  wind  and  rain. 

She  seemed  a  dryad  of  the  wood 

Just  merging  into  womanhood. 

She  kissed  her  mother ;  then  she  placed, 
With  girlish  pride  in  girlish  strength, 

A  rounded  arm  about  her  waist ; 

And  so  they  slowly  walked  the  length 

Of  all  their  world,  until  at  last 

'T  was  time  to  break  the  morning's  fast. 
*  *  * 

O  ye  who  idly  while  away 

The  morn,  the  noon,  the  eve,  the  night, 
Forget  not  those  who  never  play  — 

The  little  ones  who  have  to  fight 
To  earn  their  daily  loaf  of  bread, 
To  pay  for  clothes  or  trundle-bed. 

20 


Jacinta 

They  are  so  young,  they  are  so  frail, 
They  were  not  made  to  work  like  men ; 

The  blood  that  leaves  those  cheeks  so  pale 
Can  ne'er  be  conjured  back  again. 

Those  little  limbs,  so  weak,  so  thin, 

How  can  these  children  conquer  sin  ? 

How  few  of  them  have  seen  the  sea! 

How  few  have  spent  a  holiday 
Among  the  trees  where  they  should  be 

Instead  of  withering  away 
Beneath  the  tiles,  upon  the  street, 
Exposed  alike  to  cold  and  heat ! 

Had  ye  a  sister?     Look  at  these  ! 

A  brother?     See  those  urchins  there  ! 
The  sweat  shops  and  the  factories 

Are  fed  with  such  from  year  to  year ; 
And  later  on  the  prisons  reap 
The  unripe  harvest.     Can  ye  sleep  ? 

21 


Jacinta 

There  are  so  many  to  assist ; 

There  is  so  much  that  ye  can  do 
To  help  the  little  ones  who  missed 

The  joys  of  life.     If  ye  but  knew 
How  oft  they  hunger,  I  am  sure 
Ye  'd  help  the  children  of  the  poor. 


THERE  lived  within  the  city,  too, 
An  unknown  youth,  John  Orme,  by  name ; 
Who  spun  the  web  of  dreams,  and  who 

Was  marked  to  wear  the  wreath  of  Fame 
In  later  years,  when  he  had  won 
The  heights  from  whence  one  sees  the  sun- 

22 


Jacinta 

An  upright  lad  of  kingly  heart, 
Of  kingly  mien  and  kingly  soul ; 

A  lad  to  take  and  play  a  part 

And  leave  his  name  on  honor's  scroll. 

A  lad  whom  men  would  love  and  whom 

A  girl  would  follow  to  the  tomb. 

A  western  lad  who  had  not  been 
Beyond  the  borders  of  his  State, 

But  knew  full  well  (for  he  had  seen) 
What  makes  our  California  great ; 

And  was  content  to  stay  and  be 

A  partner  in  her  destiny. 

*  *  * 

Look  out  upon  your  fertile  land, 

Ye  Californians,  and  be  proud ; 
The  sea  is  yours,  that  golden  sand, 

Those  mountains  which  defy  the  cloud ; 
Those  valleys  rich  in  fruit  and  corn 
Those  streams  where  trout  and  salmon  spawn, 
23 


Jacinta 

Ye  have  of  precious  ore  your  share, 
Ye  have  your  cattle  and  your  steeds ; 

Ye  have  your  solemn  forests  where 
No  drunken  Pan  e'er  piped  on  reeds 

To  break  the  dreams  of  redwood  trees 

As  hoary  as  the  centuries. 

Your  sons  are  clean  souled,  brave  and  strong, 
Good  men  to  love,  good  men  to  fight ; 

Good  men  to  right  a  hated  wrong, 
And  quick  to  hail  and  help  the  Light, 

And  make  new  laws  and  simpler  creeds 

To  suit  their  fellows'  many  needs. 

Your  daughters  are  as  fair  as  pearls, 

As  pure  as  purest  pearl  can  be ; 
(A  health  to  all  dear  western  girls 

Across  the  land,  across  the  sea  !) 
Behold  their  strength  of  limb,  their  grace  ; 
Ye  need  not  fear  for  western  race. 
24 


Jacinta 

Look  out  upon  this  State  of  yours, 

Ye  Californians  of  to-day ; 
The  world  is  at  your  very  doors  — 

Ye  cannot  keep  the  world  away ; 
And  in  your  dreams  when  ye  are  dead 
Ye  '11  hear  it  tramping  overhead. 
*  *  * 

They  met  at  first  beside  the  sea  — 
The  sea  which  gives  and  takes  again ; 

The  restless  priest  of  Destiny 

Whose  very  voice  is  fraught  with  pain ; 

The  sea  which  never  sleeps,  and  sees 

Such  sorrow  and  such  tragedies  ! 

And  then  they  met  upon  the  hills 
Each  drawn  towards  the  other  by 

That  force  which  guides  and  sometimes  stills 
The  flaming  meteors  of  the  sky. 

And  soon  Jacinta  knew  no  more 

The  peace  that  had  been  hers  before. 
25 


Jacinta 

For  though  they  talked  of  other  things, 
About  their  hopes,  about  their  fears, 

Love  touched  them  gently  with  its  wings 
And  lo  !  it  seemed  that  they  for  years 

Had  wandered  thus  on  hills  or  sand, 

Two  happy  children,  hand  in  hand. 

And  soon  John  loved  her,  as  a  weed 
Might  love  a  rose  ;  for  he  was  poor 

And  never  dreamed  that  she  had  need 
Of  him  to  make  her  peace  secure. 

And  she,  whose  prayers  were  still  unheard, 

Knew  all,  but  could  not  say  a  word. 

The  months  passed  by  till  one  late  noon 
The  maiden  and  the  mother  sat 

Beside  their  door,  nor  thought  how  soon 
A  Visitor  would  knock  thereat 

And  beckon  one  to  come  and  see 

The  glory  of  God's  majesty. 
26 


Jacinta 

The  mother's  thoughts  were  with  the  past, 
Her  soul  was  with  her  patient  dead  ; 

But  life's  blue  sky  was  overcast 
For  sweet  Jacinta,  and  instead 

Of  dreaming  of  the  coming  years 

She  dreamed  of  John  amid  her  tears. 

And  soon  she  knelt  beside  the  dame 
And  sobbed  unhindered  ;  then  she  told 

About  her  love  and  how  he  came 
Across  her  path,  like  knight  of  old  ; 

And  how  the  very  dunes  seemed  fair 

And  beautiful  when  he  was  there. 

And  how  a  glory  clothed  the  sea 
Because  she  saw  it  through  his  eyes ; 

And  how  the  bright  stars  seemed  to  be 
The  outer  lamps  of  Paradise, 

And  all  because  God's  ministers 

Had  made  her  his  and  made  him  hers. 
27 


Jacinta 

Alone  they  were,  those  sacred  ones  — 
The  maid  and  mother ;  both  akin 

In  purity  to  purest  nuns 

Who  ever  pray  for  those  who  sin  ; 

The  maid  and  mother  —  links  that  bind 

The  spirit  world  with  humankind. 

Across  the  embowered  portico 
The  first  sad  heralds  of  the  mist 

With  faces  veiled  and  footsteps  slow 
Crept  past  to  keep  their  phantom  tryst, 

And  laid  their  cool  moist  fingers  on 

The  roses'  cheeks  in  benison. 

The  sea  was  hid  beneath  a  pall 

Which  spread  along  the  sand's  soft  bed, 
And  soon  the  lonely  dunes  and  all 

The  shore  was  hid ;  while  overhead 
The  mist  swept  past  and  every  hill 
Wore  Death's  gray  robe  and  was  as  still. 
28 


Jacinta 

The  mother  kissed  her  grieving  child 
And  stroked  her  hair  and  bade  her  be 

Less  sad  of  heart  and  reconciled 
To  God's  own  will  and  surely  He 

Would  one  day,  when  He  deemed  it  best, 

Set  both  their  troubled  hearts  at  rest. 
*  *  * 

That  self-same  night  there  softly  trod 
The  winding  stairways  of  the  skies 

An  angel  from  the  courts  of  God  — 
A  Gardener,  with  kindly  eyes 

Most  calm  with  age,  most  kind  with  love, 

Who  tends  the  gardens  there  above. 

He  was  not  heard,  he  was  not  seen, 
Nor  did  he  make  his  presence  known ; 

For  though  the  Gardener  has  been 

Each  night  to  earth  since  first  were  sown 

The  flowers  he  culls,  and  holds  so  dear, 

Men  think  of  him,  and  will,  with  fear. 
29 


Jacinta 

They  do  not  know  how  good  he  is, 
How  very  wise,  how  very  kind  ; 

As  old  as  human  frailties  — 
To  all  our  imperfections  blind. 

They  do  not  know  he  plants  us  all 

In  gardens  near  God's  tribunal. 

That  night  he  walked  along  the  shore 
And  saw  among  the  hills  afar 

A  cottage  he  had  passed  before, 
The  door  of  which  was  left  ajar. 

He  went  thereto  and  oped  it  wide 

And  saw  two  flowers,  side  by  side. 

Asleep  they  lay.     The  one  still  fair  — 
A  simple  child  whose  cheeks  were  wet ; 

The  angel  saw  her  golden  hair 

And  folded  hands  and  said  :  "  Not  yet, 

Sweet  one,  so  young ;  for  thou  must  learn 

The  joys  of  life  ere  I  return. 
3° 


Jacinta 

"  The  flowers  of  yonder  land  above 

Have  known  life's  joy,  have  known  its  pain  ; 

Have  known  its  grief,  have  known  its  love, 
Have  seen  night  turn  to  day  again. 

The  buds  are  only  gathered  when 

They  might  be  bruised  by  thoughtless  men." 

He  passed  to  where  the  other  lay, 
Narcissus-white,  with  heart  of  gold  ; 

He  touched  her,  saying  :  "  Come  away 
To  where  thy  petals  may  unfold  !  " 

She  sighed  in  sleep,  then  sweetly  smiled 

And  woke  to  plead  for  her  dear  child. 


Jacinta 

7/T^  WAS  evening  now.    Two  days  had  gone 
-•-      To  join  the  Past  since  on  the  heights 

The  angel  walked  and  left  thereon 
A  simple  flower  to  brave  the  nights  — 

The  awful  nights,  the  barren  days 

When  one  departs  and  one  still  stays. 

The  air  was  now  so  calm,  serene, 

So  full  of  subtle  promisings, 
One  scarce  believed  that  Death  had  been 

Along  that  way,  or  that  his  wings 
Perhaps  were  drooping  even  then 
Above  the  heads  of  boastful  men. 

The  sun  was  setting.     O'er  the  grass 
Belated  sunbeams  cast  their  gold 

Like  careless  spendthrifts  whom,  alas, 
The  cloak  of  night  must  soon  enfold, 

And  who  can  never  read  the  sky 

And  learn  how  soon  they  have  to  die. 
32 


Jacinta 

The  sky  was  robed  in  pearly  gray, 
With  fringe  of  violet  and  blue, 

With  lemon  tints  where  yet  the  day 
Was  disappearing,  passing  through 

The  heaven's  arch  to  light  the  least 

Of  all  the  mountains  in  the  East. 

The  glinting  city  seemed  asleep, 

Its  revelry  was  laid  aside ; 
For  men  are  glad  to  rest  and  keep 

The  Sabbath  holy,  o'er  the  wide, 
Wide  world  wherein  they  come  and  go 
Like  human  ships,  tossed  to  and  fro. 

And  e'en  the  sea  was  very  still, 

The  waves  rolled  softly  up  the  sand ; 

No  sound  was  heard  on  dunes  or  hill  — 
The  world  appeared  to  understand 

That  Grief  had  left  her  biding  place 

To  be  on  earth  a  little  space. 

3  33 


Jacinta 

Among  the  hills  where  few  men  tread 
There  lies  an  acre  hedged  around, 

Wherein  repose  the  peaceful  dead  — 
A  silent  place  where  ne'er  a  sound 

Except  the  piping  of  a  bird 

Or  crash  of  distant  surf  is  heard. 

A  humble  place  except  to  them 

Who  sojourn  there,  and  know  that  they 

Will  some  day  see  the  cherubim 
Pour  forth  the  mighty  vials  of  Day 

Upon  the  purpled  robes  of  Night 

And  flood  the  world  with  purest  light. 

Without,  the  restless  sedges  wave 
Their  lissome  arms  towards  the  sea ; 

Within,  above  each  grass-locked  grave 
Sweet  flowers  bloom  eternally. 

Without,  nor  winds  nor  worries  cease ; 

Within  is  ever  rest  and  peace. 
*  *  * 

34 


Jacinta 

Whoe'er  thou  art  thou  shalt  be  borne 
One  day  to  such  a  resting  place  ; 

And  though  thy  heart  be  glad  or  torn 
When  thou  hast  run  thy  little  race 

Thou,  too,  shalt  lay  thee  down  and  find 

Good  rest  in  death,  and  peace  of  mind. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  or  rich  or  poor, 
The  Gardener  will  come  for  thee 

And  place  thy  cross  this  side  the  door 
And  lay  thee  with  his  company, 

And  thou  shouldst  not  be  loath  to  leave 

The  life  wherein  one  has  to  grieve. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  or  sick  or  well, 
Thou  shalt  be  borne  by  others  there ; 

Thou  dost  not  know,  no  man  can  tell 
Of  thy  hence-taking,  when  or  where. 

But  thou  shouldst  not  be  loath  to  sleep 

Where  none  will  dream  and  none  will  weep. 
35 


Jacinta 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  or  young  or  old, 

Thou  shouldst  be  more  than  glad  to  go, 

To  leave  thy  poverty  or  gold 

For  those  who  still  must  reap  and  sow ; 

For  there  among  those  silent  friends 

All  toil  is  o'er,  all  sorrow  ends. 
*  *  * 

Along  the  central  path  there  crept 
A  slow  procession  ;  first  there  were 

The  men  who  bore  the  one  who  slept 
And  who  would  soon  be  resting  there  ; 

While  many  women  walked  behind 

With  children  restless  as  the  wind. 

Towards  a  grave  they  wound  their  way  — 
An  open  grave  which  soon  would  hide 

Until  the  final  Judgment  Day 

The  humbled  dust  that  lay  inside. 

And  when  at  last  they  came  thereto 

They  laid  the  casket  down  and  drew 
36 


Jacinta 

Around  their  priest  who  knew  each  one  — 
Had  blessed  them  all  before  at  birth 

And  when  their  little  lives  were  done 
Would  bless  and  lay  them  in  the  earth, 

And  pray  for  them  by  night  and  day 

Until  he,  too,  was  lured  away. 

He  spoke  to  them  in  simple  speech 
And  told  them  all  that  man  can  tell, 

The  lessons  that  the  Scriptures  teach  — 
The  promise  that  it  shall  be  well 

With  those  who  do  their  humble  best 

And  lay  them  down  in  faith  to  rest. 

He  told  them  how  each  mortal  must 
Pass  on  towards  that  higher  sphere, 

And  leave  as  tribute  here  his  dust 
Which  grows  so  heavy  as  we  near 

The  little  door  that  closes  fast 

When  once  the  wanderer  has  passed, 
37 


Jacinta 

He  told  them  of  that  fairer  place 
Where  we  shall  meet  at  trumpet  call 

And  see  our  Maker  face  to  face 
And  learn  the  reason  of  it  all : 

Where  loved  ones  linger  side  by  side 

And  are  forever  satisfied. 

He  paused  awhile  till  sturdy  men 
The  casket  lowered  to  its  bed 

Upon  the  yellow  clay,  and  then 
He  cast  on  it  some  earth  and  said 

Those  mighty  words  that  promise  life 

Yet  wound  the  heart  like  keenest  knife. 

The  mourners  stayed  until  the  grave 
Was  satisfied.     When  all  was  through 

The  priest  to  each  his  blessing  gave 
And  all  went  homewards ;  all  save  two 

Jacinta,  one  ;  the  other,  John, 

Who  could  not  leave  but  lingered  on. 
38 


Jacinta 

They  stood  together,  hand  in  hand, 
A  western  lad,  a  western  maid ; 

Afar  was  heard  upon  the  sand 

Each  wave's  faint  murmur  as  it  laid 

Its  tribute  at  her  golden  feet 

And  died  ere  conquest  was  complete. 

And  solemn  bells  would  chime  and  then 
Be  lost  in  space ;  content  to  be 

Of  moment's  use  —  reminding  men 
Of  prayer  and  of  eternity, 

And  how  they  too  must  fade  away 

As  fades  the  sunshine,  ray  by  ray. 

The  heavens  were  darkened  now ;  the  stars, 
Like  vestal  virgins  whom  the  sun 

Keeps  prisoners  behind  the  bars, 

Stepped  slowly  forth  and,  one  by  one, 

Prepared  to  greet  and  glorify 

The  stately  empress  of  the  sky. 
39 


Jacinta 

The  winds  in  numbers  sad  and  slow 
Had  sung  the  dead  day's  requiem ; 

Had  seen  its  courtiers  seawards  go, 
Had  seen  the  evening  follow  them ; 

They  lingered  now  upon  the  hill 

Where  all,  except  the  sedge,  was  still. 

One  almost  seemed  to  feel  the  breath 
Of  angels  on  the  scented  air ; 

Or  was  it  yet  the  wings  of  Death, 
The  Gardener,  who  hovered  there 

Above  the  silent,  grieving  twain 

And  fain  had  made  them  glad  again? 

Jacinta  sobbed  as  though  her  heart 
Were  like  to  break ;  for  still  it  seemed 

She  could  not  dare  to  play  her  part 
Alone  in  life,  where  no  star  gleamed 

To  set  her  wandering  feet  aright 

And  comfort  her  throughout  the  night. 
40 


Jacinta 

She  knelt  and  prayed  for  help  and  strength 
To  do  her  work,  to  find  her  way 

Throughout  life's  maze,  and  when  at  length 
She  rose  again,  it  seemed  a  ray 

Of  light  suffused  her  doubting  soul 

And  made  it  strong  again  and  whole. 

And  still  they  lingered  side  by  side 
Although  they  never  spoke  a  word ; 

But  He  whom  she  had  asked  to  guide 
Her  bark  across  the  sea  had  heard 

Her  girlish  prayer  \  for  even  while 

She  turned  to  John  with  weary  smile, 

To  bid  him  take  her  home,  he  stood 
In  front  of  her  and  told  his  love  ; 

And  something  whispered  he  was  good 
So,  with  a  prayer  to  God  above, 

She  leaned  to  him,  and  lo,  her  eyes 

Grew  soft,  grew  still,  like  star-lit  skies. 
41 


Jacinta 


THE  LOST   LIGHT 

AS  one  in  dreams  awhile  may  clearly  see 
The  much-loved  face  of  one  long  passed 
away, 

So,  too,  there  comes,  when  saddest  seems  the  day, 
A  fleeting  glimpse  of  Paradise  to  me. 
I  see  the  hosts  who  wait  with  bended  knee 

Before  the  Throne  whence  glory  streams  alway ; 
I  seem  to  hear  the  very  words  they  say 
In  tones  that  make  the  wind's  sweet  melody. 

But  when  my  soul,  returned  from  heaven,  tries 
With  gentle  song  to  still  the  hapless  sighs 

Of  my  pale  fellows,  slaves  to  grief  and  pain, 
Expression  fails  me  and  while  yet  I  seek 
In  halting  rhyme  the  words  I  heard  to  speak, 

The  curtain  falls  and  all  grows  dark  again. 
42 


Jacinta 


OUR   LADY  OF   GREAT  CONSOLATION 

SHE  stands  secure  above  the  world's  unrest 
To  plead  with  God  the  sorrows  of  our  race ; 
A  mother's  smile  relights  her  thoughtful  face 
As  each  lone  soul  creeps  sadly  to  her  breast. 
Within  her  arms  (O  arms  so  softly  pressed 
About  thy  babe  !)  each  one  may  find  a  place 
Who  yearns  for  love  and  that  all-sacred  grace 
With  which  at  last  earth's  weary  ones  are  blest. 

Each  one  to  her  can  falter  out  the  tale 
Of  tasks  attempted,  how  results  would  fail 

The  soul's  ideal  and  the  heart's  desire  \ 
And  when,  at  last,  the  childish  murmurs  cease, 
With  soothing  glance  she  gives  the  griever  peace 

And  strength  to  brave  the  daytime's  purging  fire. 
43 


Jacinta 


SAN  FRANCISCO 
(FROM  THE  HILLS) 

'  "|\ /T  ID  sedges  tall  this  summer  day  I  lie 
-L  * -*•     And  hear  the  waves  fall  softly  on  the  sand. 
So  pure  the  air,  it  seems  with  outstretched  hand 

One  e'en  might  touch  that  veil  we  call  the  sky. 

From  o'er  the  sea  the  wind  with  fretful  sigh 
Betakes  its  way  across  the  fertile  land, 
Whose  flaunting  poppies  form  a  golden  band, 

And  dance  before  the  sun's  voluptuous  eye. 

Beyond  the  dunes  a  city,  young  but  proud, 
Uprears  its  front  in  sunshine  or  through  cloud  — 

The  fairest  jewel  on  our  country's  breast ; 
A  man-made  city,  whose  strong  voice  shall  sound 
In  days  to  come  life's  truths  the  world  around, 
And  wake  earth's  leaders  from  their  gold-drugged 
rest. 

44 


Jacinta 


LYRIC 

IN  the  wake  of  the  moon  is  one  faithful  attendant 
Who  finds  his  delight 

In  watching  the  face  of  his  mistress  resplendent, 
The  Queen  of  the  Night. 

The  moon  has  attained  to  the  height  of  her  power, 

The  star  is  still  pale ; 
Twixt  aught  save  the  sun  and  the  heaven's  fair  flower 

What  love  can  avail? 

So  the  nights  turn  to  years,  and  the  moon  in  her  glory 

Still  travels  through  space ; 
And  the  star  gives  no  sign  of  his  love  or  his  story 

But  watches  her  face. 


45 


Jacinta 


CLOSE   THE   GATES 

MAKE  fast  the  gates  through  which  for  years 
have  poured 

The  lawless  hosts  from  yonder  side  the  world ; 
Against  our  land  these  human  shafts  are  hurled 
And  spread  contagion  from  their  own  foul  horde. 
Dear  to  their  souls  are  fire  and  the  sword, 

Like  snakes  they  lie  within  the  shadow  curled  ; 
They  flout  our  flag — the  flag  which  floats  unfurled 
Above  their  heads  them  freedom  to  afford. 

Our  men  are  idle  and  our  women  weep, 
Their  little  babes  go  hungrily  to  sleep ; 

And  still  they  come  —  Italians,  Slavs  and  Greeks. 
Make  fast  the  gates  against  this  human  slime 
For  Want  will  drive  our  stalwart  men  to  crime 

And  tempt  their  daughters  with  their  whitened 
cheeks. 

46 


Jacinta 


ART 

THE  same  to-day  with  dim,  dead  yesterdays 
True  Art  remains,  beyond  Death's  welcome 
thrall, 

And  pays  no  heed  to  that  imperious  call 
Whereby  earth's  great  obtain  their  deathless  bays. 
Through  gray-hued   years,  in  drear,   unlightened 

ways, 

From  on  her  throne  she  sees  vast  empires  fall 
Whose  crumbling  wrack  ne'er  soils  her  temple's 

wall, 
Strong  built  and  high,  of  envious  chrysoprase. 

And  one  sweet  chord  doth  bind  all  souls  who  kneel, 
Or  once  have  knelt  at  her  dear  feet,  and  feel 

That  quenchless  flame  her  chosen  understand ; 
Thus  they  who  sleep  beneath  Italian  skies 
Are  one  with  those  who  hear  the  wind's  soft  sighs 

With  restful  requiems  woo  our  western  land. 
47 


Jacinta 

SCIENCE 

WITH  cool,  calm  brow  and  eyes  dispassionate 
She  sits  near  Art,  and  sees  her  children 
wrest 
The  veil  aside  which  shields  the  earth's  warm 

breast 

And,  one  by  one,  their  victories  consummate. 
To  those  who  dare,  she  shows  both  cause  and  fate 
Of  all  vain  things,  and  helps  their  eager  quest 
To  read  the  words  that  crown  life's  sunlit  crest 
Before  they  seek,  pale-lipped,  Death's  shadowed 
gate. 

A  teacher  she,  who  makes  her  pupils  find 
Mysterious  meanings  in  the  rain  and  wind, 

And  hints  of  heaven  in  the  humblest  sod  ; 
And  though  she  rends,  the  rents  but  help  to  prove 
The  law  behind  —  the  law  of  ceaseless  love 

That  proves  Man's  grand  affinity  with  God. 
48 


Jacinta 


THE   EVENING  STARS 

THE  stars  that  light  the  firmament, 
I  often  think,  are  nuns, 
Who  purely  lived  and  gladly  went 

To  chant  their  orisons 
In  chorus  at  the  golden  door 
Whence  mercy  streams  forevermore. 

We  only  see  those  nuns  at  night ; 

By  day  they  kneel  and  pray 
And  ask  of  God  to  send  us  light 

To  drive  our  gloom  away. 
But  every  eve  they  sing  and  smile 
And  heavy  hearts  are  glad  the  while. 


49 


Jacinta 


THIS   DAY'S   MESSAGE 

MAKE  thou  no  plan  of  deeds  that  will  be  done 
To-morrow  —  day  that  may  not  dawn  for 
thee; 

Perchance  't  is  writ  this  night  the  night  shall  be 
Wherein  thy  soul  by  hungry  Death  is  won. 
E'er  morning  light  thy  life's  last  sands  may  run 
Their  fleeting  course,  and  thou  must  brave  that 

sea 

Whose  fearsome  waters  glide  eternally 
Between  earth's  shores  and  heaven's  outpost  sun. 

To-day  thou  art ;  a  few  short  hours  are  thine 
Wherein  to  quaff  of  life's  enchanting  wine 

Whose  bitter  dregs  must,  too,  be  drained  at  last. 
To-morrow  is  to-morrow's.     Canst  thou  say 

What  thou  wilt  do,  or  how  wilt  while  away 
The  unborn  hours  to  which  thy  right  is  past  ? 
5° 


Jacinta 


COMPENSATION 

I  DREAMED  one  night  I  stood  before  the  seat 
Of  God  in  heaven,  brooding  o'er  my  past. 
With  bitter  smile  my  bleeding  soul  I  cast 
For  judgment  in  the  flames  about  His  feet. 
But  very  soon  my  soul,  made  pure  and  sweet, 
Flew  back  to  me,  and  I  beheld  at  last 
My  nobler  self,  angelic  grown  and  vast, 
And  all  my  life  seemed  rounded  and  complete. 

Abashed  I  stood,  until  an  angel  came 

And  led  me  thence  to  where  the  blessed  Dame 

Awaited  us,  upon  her  breast  a  dove. 
She  understood  the  look  upon  my  face 
Which  seemed  to  ask :  "  Wherefore  this  gift  of 

grace?" 

So  smiled  and  said :    "  Our  God,  is  He  not 
Love?" 


Jacinta 

DEATH 

WITH   restful   lips,  o'er  which  no  laughter 
flies, 

And  mighty  limbs,  in  gray  hues  garmented, 
She  sits  and  waits  life's  outcast,  weary  dead 
To  seal  their  mouths  and  close  their  frightened 

eyes. 

No  heed  she  pays  to  pleadings,  nor  to  sighs, 
But  lays  her  hand  on  each  care-weighted  head 
And    gives   it    rest  —  God's   promised    rest  — 

instead, 
Until  each  one  from  sleep  shall  rearise. 

And  unto  each  she  doth  a  gift  bequeath  — 
To  those  who  strived,  perhaps,  a  laurel  wreath ; 

To  others  sleep  and  sweet  forgetfulness. 
While  unto  those  whose  lips  ne'er  knew,  above, 
The  fond  communion  of  another's  love, 

She  doth  bestow,  unknown,  their  first  caress. 
52 


Jacinta 


THE   ONE   FACE 

AS  one  late  rose,  unspoiled  by  autumn  winds, 
Makes  bright  the  garden,  desolate  and  bare  : 
So  one  dear  face,  the  soul's  fond  comforter, 
With  one  sweet  smile  can  make  the  world  seem  fair. 


53 


Jacinta 


THE   PLAYERS'    QUESTION 

"  \  T  7HENCE  come  the  countless  phantoms 
*  V       which  we  see 

Filling  our  house,  new-visaged  every  day  ? 

Where  do  they  go  when  once  they  pass  away, 
Silent,  unnoticed,  wrapt  in  mystery? 
Who  is  this  One  (if  One  there  truly  be) 

Who  has  the  power  to  create  and  slay 

Us,  the  poor  puppets  of  this  ghostly  play 
Which  may  continue  through  eternity?  " 

So  ask  the  weary  players ;  but,  alas, 

No  answer  comes  till  one  by  one  they  pass 

(The  priest,  the  fool,  the  soldier  and  the  sage) 
Behind  the  misty  curtain  and,  revealed, 
See  what  was  once  conjectured,  though  concealed  — 

A  host  of  actors  on  a  mighty  stage. 
54 


Jacinta 


THE  MIDNIGHT  VISITATION 

BUT  yesternight  my  own  Beloved  came  — 
My  sad  soul's  light,  both  wondrous  fair  and 
wise  — 

And  lit  awhile  with  rays  from  her  sweet  eyes 
The  humble  room  wherein  I  toil  for  fame. 
So  fair  she  seemed  !     About  her  head  the  same 
Rich  glory  hovered  that  one  sees  in  skies 
That  gain  the  day's  last  blessing,  ere  it  flies 
To  tell  earth's  sorrow  to  the  star-crowned  Dame. 

How  good  it  was  on  that  still  ripening  breast, 
Forgetting  all,  my  weary  head  to  rest, 

And  cool  my  lips  within  her  tresses'  shade  ; 
But  when  I  sought,  grown  strong,  to  hold  her  hand 
Within  mine  own  that  she  might  understand, 
I  sighed,  and  then  —  ah  well,  each  dream  must 
fade. 

55 


Jacinta 


THE   POET'S   CREED 

I   FAIN  would  teach  the  beauties  of  belief, 
In  that  grand  creed  wherein  the  one  God 
bides, 

Above  all  worlds  and  in  all  things,  and  guides 
Our  faltering  steps,  or  long  our  lives  or  brief. 
For  good  it  is  for  us  to  know  that  grief 

Is  but  a  veil,  without  whose  darkness  hides 
The  Light  of  Lights  in  whom  each  soul  confides 
When  Death  to  Life's  sad  doubting  brings  relief. 

As  phantom  lights  upon  some  lonely  fen 
Have  lured  astray  the  feet  of  weary  men, 

So  worldly  thought  our  bonds  with  God  has  rent. 
In  future  years  a  star,  a  smile,  a  shower, 
The  morn's  soft  dew,  the  storm,  the  waking  flower, 

Will  speak  of  Him  and  thus  give  men  content. 
56 


Jacinta 


LYRIC 


me  not,  my  Queen,  to  go 
From  out  thy  sight  ; 
To  brave  the  storm,  the  blinding  snow, 
The  starless  night. 

Within  thy  heart  the  shrine  is  placed 

Whereat  I  pray  ; 
Ah,  send  me  not,  fore'er  disgraced, 

In  tears  away. 

But  let  on  me  the  love-light  shine 

Within  thine  eyes, 
Wherein  is  stored  the  light  divine 

When  daytime  dies. 


57 


Jacinta 


WITH   A  TANAGRA   STATUETTE 

AS  old,  perhaps,  though  not  so  fair  as  She 
Who  through  long  years  of  restlessness  has 
stood 

The  type  of  highest,  purest  womanhood, 
This  statue  is,  I  herewith  proffer  thee. 
That  other's  eyes  look  forward  and  they  see 
Thy  sisters'  future ;  these  in  pity  brood 
Above  their  past.     Thus  both  are  truly  good 
And  worthy  a  true  woman's  sympathy. 

Dear  Lady,  then,  within  some  shrined  recess 
Place  thou  this  one,  whose  downcast  glances  bless 

The  pallid  brows  of  her  most  patient  dead ; 
So  she  may  gain,  when  thou  shalt  hover  near, 
Thy  lamp's  own  light,  and  bear  to  each  lone  bier 

New  words  of  peace  and  hopefulness  instead. 
60 


Jacinta 


LYRIC 

PALE  lips  that  yearn  for  kisses, 
Sad  lips  that  ever  grieve, 
Red  lips  that  know  what  bliss  is 

And  taste  of  it  at  eve  — 
Bethink  you  how  the  flowers 

Beneath  the  mould  must  lie ; 
They  bloom  a  few  short  hours 
And  then  they  fade  and  die. 

O  blue  eyes  live  with  fire, 

O  black  eyes  lit  with  flame, 
O  eyes  that  wake  desire 

And  eyes  still  soft  with  shame  - 
Bethink  you  time  is  flying 

And  love  is  passing,  too ; 
At  dawn  you  may  be  lying 

Beneath  the  sombre  yew  ! 
61 


Jacinta 

There  rest  the  old-time  lovers, 

There  sleep  they,  man  and  maid ; 
Too  late  each  one  discovers 

The  sunshine  turns  to  shade. 
Bethink  you,  you  must  follow, 

As  night-time  follows  day, 
To  where  the  hills  are  hollow 

And  Love  no  more  holds  sway. 


62 


Jacinta 
THE   HIGHER  PRAISE 

(AT  THE  GRAVE  OF  RICHARD  REALF,  LONE  MOUNTAIN) 

'ITH  curling  lip  I  sought  that  chosen  place 


w 


Wherein,  at  last,  earth's  toilers  rest,  not 
hear 

The  fretful  call  of  songbird,  or  the  drear 
Dull  boom  of  waves  against  the  sad  shore's  face. 
The  hopeless  fog  had  ceased  its  spectral  race 
In  search  of  peace,  which  restless  man  holds 

dear 

And  seldom  finds.     The  air  was  cool  and  clear ; 
The  flowers  slept  and  night  came  on  apace. 

Beneath  a  mound  of  simple  green  there  lay 
A  man  who  sang,  yet  lacks  the  deathless  bay, 

And  lies  unheeded,  though  his  art  was  great ; 
But  while  I  mused  the  wind  from  o'er  the  sea 
With  scented  breath  crept  gently  up  to  me 

And  whispered  low  :    "  Unloved   of  all  —  save 
Fate  !  "  63 


Jacinta 


THE   WRITING   ON   THE   WALL 

1LOOK  beyond  the  sunshine  and  I  see 
Two  ominous  clouds  grow  larger  day  by  day  : 
Across  the  gloom  with  fitful  flashes  play 
The  lightnings  of  our  bondmen's  enmity ; 
Our  shackled  hordes  creep  forward  as  the  sea 
O'erfloods  the  land  the  which  it  gnaws  away, 
And  'neath  each  smile  I  see  a  blank  dismay 
Of  what  behind  the  future's  veil  may  be* 

I  hear  a  tramping  as  of  men  at  arms, 

The  bugles'  shrilling  and  the  drums'  alarms, 

The  cries  of  children  and  the  mothers'  groans  ; 
The  country  trembles  and  the  cities  shake, 
The  fools  make  merry  but  the  wise  men  quake  — 

They  know  the  meaning  of  the  undertones. 
64 


Jacinta 


TO   ONE   IN    DOUBT 

IN  one  who  treads  each   morn  the  mountains' 
height 

And  sees  the  golden  glory  everywhere 
There  is  excuse,  I  hold,  for  sweet  despair 
When  sunbeams  fade  before  encroaching  night. 
The  heart  and  soul  crave  ever  ceaseless  light 
And  prove  thereby  dependance  on  His  care 
From  whom  we  say  come  all  things  good  and 

fair  — 
Each  feathered  priest  and  petaled  anchorite. 

So  when  the  shades  with  muffled  footsteps  creep 
Along  the  paths  to  put  the  flowers  to  sleep 

And  phantom  mists  drop  down  o'er  hill  and  dell, 
The  heart  grows  sad  because  the  spirit  seems 
Too  weak  alone  to  face  night's  sombre  dreams 

Forgetting  this :  The  gloom  is  God's  as  well. 
5  65 


Jacinta 


LYRIC 

O   SWEET  my  loved  one,  hear  my  prayer, 
Be  thou  mine  own  and  love  me  ! 
So  dear  art  thou,  so  proud,  so  fair  — 

Alas,  so  far  above  me. 
Yet  thou,  perchance,  dear  love,  wilt  deign 
To  soothe  a  heart  long  steeped  in  pain, 
For  pity  is  a  maiden's  gain  — 
O  sweet  my  loved  one,  hear  ! 

So  oft  I  've  prayed,  my  heart  is  sore. 

When  far  from  thee  I  sorrow, 
And  yet,  alas,  it  pains  me  more 
To  meet  thee  on  the  morrow. 
Ah,  would  that  I  were  fondly  pressed 
Against  thy  true,  all-sacred  breast, 
Then,  then,  ah  then,  might  I  find  rest  — 
O  sweet  my  loved  one,  hear ! 
66 


Jacinta 


ROBERT   BROWNING 

OPOET  Soul !  whose  most  melodious  songs 
Can   soothe   the   heart   attuned   to   Life's 
sweet  sorrow, 
Our  doubting  minds  from  thy  great  strength  can 

borrow 

That  wondrous  faith  for  which  the  God-Soul  longs. 
Star-pure  and  calm  amidst  seraphic  throngs 

Thou  watchest   now  our  stumbling  feet,  which 

follow 
Thy  beaten   track  which   on    some    hallowed 

morrow 
Shall  lead  us  home  from  out  this  world  of  wrongs. 

As  minor  stars  from  out  the  central  sun 
Beget  their  light,  so  we,  till  all  is  done, 

May  solace  find  in  soul-born  melody ; 
We  turn  to  thee,  between  whose  every  line 
The  primal  thoughts  of  human  welfare  shine  — • 

Life,  Love  and  God,  and  Immortality  ! 
67 


Jacinta 


TO   ONE   WHO   WEARS   OPALS 

THINK  not,  dear  lady,  that  a  fateful  gem 
Around  thy  form  can  cast  unhallowed  spell ; 
But  rather  know  that  it  belongs  full  well 
Among  the  stones  that  form  thy  diadem. 
Fair  are  they  all,  but  mistress  over  them, 
Lady,  thou  art,  as  rules  the  asphodel 
Among  the  drooping  flowers,  when  the  knell 
Of  day's  sad  burial  sounds  their  requiem. 

Nay,  I  do  hold,  at  sight  of  thy  kind  face 
Those  opals  gain  fresh  virtues  and  the  grace 
That  is,  dear  lady,  thine  and  e'er  will  be ; 
They  thus  become  thy  guards,  whose  duties  are 
From  hurt  and  harm  of  envious,  baneful  star 
Through  night's  and  day's  long  hours  to  keep 
thee  free. 

68 


Jacinta 


THE   HIGHER   MARRIAGE 

ONE  summer's  eve  in  yonder  church  I  whiled 
An  hour  away  in  meditative  prayer, 
And  while  I  dreamed,  a  maid,  most  young  and 

fair, 

With  silent  step  approached  the  Dame  most  mild. 
Before  her  feet,  with  loving  touch,  the  child 
Laid  fresh-culled  roses,  odorous  and  rare, 
Whose  scents  commingled  and  possessed  the  air 
In  purest  passion,  warm  yet  undefiled. 

Ah,  when  the  soul  forsakes  this  house  of  clay 
To  roam  untrammelled  through  the  courts  of  Day 

And  seek  its  fond  companions  of  the  past, 
May  it  not  be  that  we  (whose  love  is  vain) 
May  taste  the  sweets  of  innocence  again 

And  share  the  perfumes'  purity  at  last? 


Jacinta 


A   PRAYER   FOR   A   MAN'S   PASSING 

LET  me  not  pass  till  eve, 
Till  that  day's  fight  is  done ; 
What  soldier  cares  to  leave 
The  field  until  it 's  won  ! 
And  I  have  loved  my  work  and  fain 
Would  be  deemed  worthy  of  the  ranks  again. 

Let  twilight  come,  then  night, 

And  when  the  first  birds  sing 
Their  matin  songs,  and  light 

Wakens  each  slumbering  thing, 
Let  Someone  waken  me,  and  set 

My  feet  to  steps  that  lead  me  upward  yet. 


70 


